sanditon by jane austen and another lady pdf

Sanditon By Jane Austen And Another Lady Pdf

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Mental Floss What a task to take on, finishing the writing of Jane Austens unfinished last novel Sandition. Austen wrote the first 11 chapters of this book and another author finished the story in the style of Austen. Even though the reader knows exactly where Austens part of the story leaves off, its very easy to feel like she wrote the whole story.

When Charlotte Heywood accepts an invitation to visit the newly fashionable seaside resort of Sanditon, she is introduced to a full range of polite society, from reigning local dowager Lady Denham to her impoverished ward Clara, and from the handsome, feckless Sidney Parker to his amusing, if hypochondriac, sisters. A heroine whose clear-sighted commens sense is often at war with romance, Charlotte cannot help observing around her both folly and passion in many guises. But can the levelheaded Charlotte herself resist the desires of the heart? Jane Austen was an English novelist known primarily for her six major novels —Sense and Sensibility , Pride and Prejudice , Mansfield Park , Emma, Northanger Abbey , and Persuasion —which observe and critique the British gentry of the late eighteenth century. Her mastery of wit, irony, and social commentary made her a beloved and acclaimed author in her lifetime, a distinction she still enjoys today around the world.

Sanditon – Jane Austen and Another Lady

By Jane Austen and Another Lady. A gentleman and a lady travelling from Tunbridge towards that part of the Sussex coast which lies between Hastings and Eastbourne, being induced by business to quit the high road and attempt a very rough lane, were overturned in toiling up its long ascent, half rock, half sand. The severity of the fall was broken by their slow pace and the narrowness of the lane; and the gentleman having scrambled out and helped out his companion, they neither of them at first felt more than shaken and bruised.

But the gentleman had, in the course of the extrication, sprained his foot; and soon becoming sensible of it, was obliged in a few moments to cut short both his remonstrances to the driver and his congratulations to his wife and himself and sit down on the bank, unable to stand.

Good out of evil. The very thing perhaps to be wished for. We shall soon get relief. His wife fervently hoped it was; but stood, terrified and anxious, neither able to do or suggest anything, and receiving her first real comfort from the sight of several persons now coming to their assistance.

The accident had been discerned from a hayfield adjoining the house they had passed. And the persons who approached were a well-looking, hale, gentlemanlike man of middle age, the proprietor of the place, who happened to be among his haymakers at the time, and three or four of the ablest of them summoned to attend their master — to say nothing of all the rest of the field, men, women and children, not very far off.

His courtesies were received with good breeding and gratitude, and while one or two of the men lent their help to the driver in getting the carriage upright again, the traveller said,. The injury to my leg is, I dare say, very trifling. I would rather see his partner. Indeed I would prefer the attendance of his partner. One of these good people can be with him in three minutes, I am sure.

Are you expecting to find a surgeon in that cottage? We have neither surgeon nor partner in the parish, I assure you. Am I not in Willingden? Is not this Willingden? You will find in it an advertisement of the dissolution of a partnership in the medical line — in your own parish — extensive business — undeniable character — respectable references — wishing to form a separate establishment. At least I may venture to say that he has not much business.

To be sure, if gentlemen were to be often attempting this lane in post-chaises, it might not be a bad speculation for a surgeon to get a house at the top of the hill. But as to that cottage, I can assure you, sir, that it is in fact, in spite of its spruce air at this distance, as indifferent a double tenement as any in the parish, and that my shepherd lives at one end and three old women at the other. Your mistake is in the place. There are two Willingdens in this country.

And your advertisements must refer to the other, which is Great Willingden or Willingden Abbots, and lies seven miles off on the other side of Battle. Quite down in the Weald. Well, I dare say it is as you say and I have made an abominably stupid blunder. All done in a moment. The advertisements did not catch my eye till the last half-hour of our being in town — everything in the hurry and confusion which always attend a short stay there.

One is never able to complete anything in the way of business, you know, till the carriage is at the door. But do not be alarmed about my leg. It gives me no pain while I am quiet. And as soon as these good people have succeeded in setting the carriage to rights and turning the horses round, the best thing we can do will be to measure back our steps into the turnpike road and proceed to Hailsham, and so home without attempting anything farther.

Two hours take us home from Hailsham. And once at home, we have our remedy at hand, you know. A little of our own bracing sea air will soon set me on my feet again. Depend upon it, my dear, it is exactly a case for the sea. Saline air and immersion will be the very thing. My sensations tell me so already.

In a most friendly manner Mr Heywood here interposed, entreating them not to think of proceeding till the ankle had been examined and some refreshment taken, and very cordially pressing them to make use of his house for both purposes. And I will answer for the pleasure it will give my wife and daughters to be of service to you in every way in their power.

We are on our road home from London. My name perhaps — though I am by no means the first of my family holding landed property in the parish of Sanditon — may be unknown at this distance from the coast. But Sanditon itself — everybody has heard of Sanditon. The favourite — for a young and rising bathing-place — certainly the favourite spot of all that are to be found along the coast of Sussex; the most favoured by nature, and promising to be the most chosen by man.

How they can half of them be filled is the wonder! Where people can be found with money and time to go to them! Bad things for a country — sure to raise the price of provisions and make the poor good for nothing — as I dare say you find, sir.

A common idea, but a mistaken one. It may apply to your large, overgrown places like Brighton or Worthing or Eastbourne — but not to a small village like Sanditon, precluded by its size from experiencing any of the evils of civilisation; while the growth of the place, the buildings, the nursery grounds, the demand for everything and the sure resort of the very best company — those regular, steady, private families of thorough gentility and character who are a blessing everywhere — excite the industry of the poor and diffuse comfort and improvement among them of every sort.

At least there are enough. Our coast is abundant enough. It demands no more. And those good people who are trying to add to the number are, in my opinion, excessively absurd and must soon find themselves the dupes of their own fallacious calculations. Such a place as Sanditon, sir, I may say was wanted, was called for. Nature had marked it out, had spoken in most intelligible characters. The finest, purest sea breeze on the coast — acknowledged to be so — excellent bathing — fine hard sand — deep water ten yards from the shore — no mud — no weeds — no slimy rocks.

Never was there a place more palpably designed by nature for the resort of the invalid — the very spot which thousands seemed in need of! The most desirable distance from London! One complete, measured mile nearer than Eastbourne.

Only conceive, sir, the advantage of saving a whole mile in a long journey. But Brinshore, sir, which I dare say you have in your eye — the attempts of two or three speculating people about Brinshore this last year to raise that paltry hamlet — lying as it does between a stagnant marsh, a bleak moor and the constant effluvia of a ridge of putrefying seaweed — can end in nothing but their own disappointment.

What in the name of common sense is to recommend Brinshore? A most insalubrious air — roads proverbially detestable — water brackish beyond example, impossible to get a good dish of tea within three miles of the place. And as for the soil — it is so cold and ungrateful that it can hardly be made to yield a cabbage. So much for the celebrity of Brinshore! This gentleman did not know there was such a place in the world.

Why, in truth, sir, I fancy we may apply to Brinshore that line of the poet Cowper in his description of the religious cottager, as opposed to Voltaire — " She , never heard of half a mile from home. But I want to see something applied to your leg. And here come my girls to speak for themselves and their mother. A thing of this kind soon makes a stir in a lonely place like ours.

Now, sir, let us see how you can be best conveyed into the house. As Mrs Parker was exceedingly anxious for relief — and her husband by this time not much less disposed for it — a very few civil scruples were enough; especially as the carriage, being now set up, was discovered to have received such injury on the fallen side as to be unfit for present use. Mr Parker was therefore carried into the house and his carriage wheeled off to a vacant barn.

T he acquaintance, thus oddly begun, was neither short nor unimportant. He had fallen into very good hands. The Heywoods were a thoroughly respectable family and every possible attention was paid, in the kindest and most unpretending manner, to both husband and wife. He was waited on and nursed, and she cheered and comforted with unremitting kindness; and as every office of hospitality and friendliness was received as it ought, as there was not more good will on one side than gratitude on the other, nor any deficiency of generally pleasant manners in either, they grew to like each other in the course of that fortnight exceedingly well.

All that he understood of himself, he readily told, for he was very openhearted; and where he might be himself in the dark, his conversation was still giving information to such of the Heywoods as could observe. By such he was perceived to be an enthusiast — on the subject of Sanditon, a complete enthusiast.

Sanditon, the success of Sanditon as a small, fashionable bathing-place, was the object for which he seemed to live. A very few years ago, it had been a quiet village of no pretensions; but some natural advantages in its position and some accidental circumstances having suggested to himself and the other principal landholder the probability of its becoming a profitable speculation, they had engaged in it, and planned and built, and praised and puffed, and raised it to something of young renown; and Mr Parker could now think of very little besides.

The facts which, in more direct communication, he laid before them were that he was about five and thirty, had been married — very happily married — seven years, and had four sweet children at home; that he was of a respectable family and easy, though not large, fortune; no profession — succeeding as eldest son to the property which two or three generations had been holding and accumulating before him; that he had two brothers and two sisters, all single and all independent — the eldest of the two former indeed, by collateral inheritance, quite as well provided for as himself.

His object in quitting the high road to hunt for an advertising surgeon was also plainly stated. It had not proceeded from any intention of spraining his ankle or doing himself any other injury for the good of such surgeon, nor as Mr Heywood had been apt to suppose from any design of entering into partnership with him; it was merely in consequence of a wish to establish some medical man at Sanditon, which the nature of the advertisement induced him to expect to accomplish in Willingden.

He was convinced that the advantage of a medical man at hand would very materially promote the rise and prosperity of the place, would in fact tend to bring a prodigious influx; nothing else was wanting. He had strong reason to believe that one family had been deterred last year from trying Sanditon on that account — and probably very many more — and his own sisters, who were sad invalids and whom he was very anxious to get to Sanditon this summer, could hardly be expected to hazard themselves in a place where they could not have immediate medical advice.

Upon the whole, Mr Parker was evidently an amiable family man, fond of wife, children, brothers and sisters, and generally kind-hearted; liberal, gentlemanlike, easy to please; of a sanguine turn of mind, with more imagination than judgement.

And Mrs Parker was as evidently a gentle, amiable, sweet-tempered woman, the properest wife in the world for a man of strong understanding but not of a capacity to supply the cooler reflection which her own husband sometimes needed; and so entirely waiting to be guided on every occasion that whether he was risking his fortune or spraining his ankle, she remained equally useless.

Sanditon was a second wife and four children to him, hardly less dear, and certainly more engrossing. He could talk of it forever. It had indeed the highest claims; not only those of birthplace, property and home; it was his mine, his lottery, his speculation and his hobby-horse; his occupation, his hope and his futurity. He was extremely desirous of drawing his good friends at Willingden thither; and his endeavours in the cause were as grateful and disinterested as they were warm.

He wanted to secure the promise of a visit, to get as many of the family as his own house would contain to follow him to Sanditon as soon as possible; and, healthy as they all undeniably were, foresaw that every one of them would be benefited by the sea. He held it indeed as certain that no person could be really well, no person however upheld for the present by fortuitous aids of exercise and spirits in a semblance of health could be really in a state of secure and permanent health without spending at least six weeks by the sea every year.

The sea air and sea bathing together were nearly infallible, one or the other of them being a match for every disorder of the stomach, the lungs or the blood. They were anti-spasmodic, anti-pulmonary, antiseptic, anti-bilious and anti-rheumatic.

Nobody could catch cold by the sea; nobody wanted appetite by the sea; nobody wanted spirits; nobody wanted strength.

Sanditon: Austen's Last Novel

By Jane Austen and Another Lady. A gentleman and a lady travelling from Tunbridge towards that part of the Sussex coast which lies between Hastings and Eastbourne, being induced by business to quit the high road and attempt a very rough lane, were overturned in toiling up its long ascent, half rock, half sand. The severity of the fall was broken by their slow pace and the narrowness of the lane; and the gentleman having scrambled out and helped out his companion, they neither of them at first felt more than shaken and bruised. But the gentleman had, in the course of the extrication, sprained his foot; and soon becoming sensible of it, was obliged in a few moments to cut short both his remonstrances to the driver and his congratulations to his wife and himself and sit down on the bank, unable to stand. Good out of evil.

When Sanditon met Pride and Prejudice: Crossovers and Influences in Jane Austen Fan Fiction

Last unfinished works by acclaimed novelist have an irresistible attraction. Inevitably someone will want to complete them. Psychologically we all want closure in our own lives as well as our literature. It was impossible not to feel him hardly used: to be obliged to stand back in his own house and see the best place by the fire constantly occupied by Sir Henry Denham.

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Two eighteen-inch-high pieces of fine porcelain statuary rested upon it. She grabbed one of the statues and hurled it at Frye. The porcelain struck the stone fireplace and exploded like a bomb. He felt like he could feel the entire human race holding their breath.

Sanditon: Jane Austen's Last Novel Completed

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